


COMPLETED - Story 3 of the Soul Magic Series

by chrmisha



Series: Soul Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Cursed Harry Potter, Injured Harry, M/M, Sick Harry, Slash, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrmisha/pseuds/chrmisha
Summary: After the war, Harry puts his life on hold to clear Snape's name, before the two go there separate ways. When life circumstances bring them back together, it's a matter of life or death. Which will Harry choose?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to JK Rowling.

Nearly 18 hours after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter awoke in the bed of Severus Snape. Not just in Snape’s bed, but in his arms. The war was over. And Harry Potter was free for the first time in his life. Or so he thought anyways.

Harry showered, dressed, and had a meal with Snape. They talked about all the things that had happened, filled in the blanks, cleared up any misunderstandings. And before Harry took his leave to find his friends once more, Harry held out his hand to Snape, his wand at the ready. Together, they rebound their shared magic, deadening its affects so they could live their separate lives. Harry did this out of respect for Snape and all he had sacrificed for the war. If either man had any doubts, any second thoughts, they kept them to themselves.

Harry thanked Snape and wished him well. The two shared an awkward hug.

Then Harry ventured out into a new Voldemort-free world, a born celebrity, with all of England singing his praises.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was arrested as a Death Eater for the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

Much to his friends and the Wizarding World’s astonishment, Harry Potter put everything on hold pending the release and clearance of Severus Snape. He fought vehemently for the former Death Eater, decrying his innocence, putting his own reputation on the line. He refused all invitations, rejected all awards, rebuffed all interviews—excepting those that told of Snape’s heroism, and repudiated all efforts from the Ministry of Magic. Harry’s message rung loud and clear: He had saved the Wizarding World and he would do no more for anyone until the record on Severus Snape had been set to rights.

With sheer force of will and much determination, Harry Potter turned the tide in Snape’s favor. With a mixture of Veritaserum, Snape’s memories, Dumbledore’s letters, and carefully crafted media spots, Severus Snape was given a full pardon from the Ministry of Magic and awarded an Order of Merlin, Second Class.

Severus Snape went on to take over Slug and Jigger’s Apothecary in Diagon Alley and opened a second, equally successful, branch in Hogsmeade a few years later. Harry Potter didn’t see Severus Snape after Snape was pardoned, but he did make a great effort to keep up to date on all of Snape’s successes and projects, following his discoveries in the field of potions and anonymously donating to his Potion’s Apprenticeship fund.

And Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Up To Expectations, became Harry Potter, the Man Who Lived Up To Expectations. He married Ginny Weasley and they had three lovely children—one of whom he named after Severus Snape. He became an Auror and rose through the ranks of the Ministry. He loved his wife and his children and his job.

And if something was missing, he consoled himself with just how lucky he was to have survived all that he had and come out on top. He was not going to waste his time on what-if’s and what-could-have-been’s; at least that’s what he told himself, every morning and every evening, and sometimes in the middle of the day as well. He had all he needed in life, he was content, he was happy even. But then why did he feel like a piece of his soul was missing?

* * *

Severus Snape ran a very successful apothecary. He had employees to take care of the tedious side of the business—tending to customers, ordering potions ingredients and brewing equipment, handling owl orders, and the like—and he had employees to manage his employees. All of this left Snape with the finances and time to do what he did best—brew complicated potions and develop new ones. He had an apprenticeship program which took in only the best students from the top wizarding schools around the world. They brewed his stock potions and particularly gifted apprentices were allowed to assist Snape with his research. If they proved good enough, they eventually graduated to be Potion’s Masters themselves.

Snape would never have guessed his life could have turned out this good. He hadn’t expected to live through the war, and even then, he hadn’t expected to escape a lifetime in Azkaban. But thanks to Harry Potter, not only had his name been cleared, he’d also become somewhat of a celebrity himself. Unlike Potter, he shunned the limelight, but his sliver of fame had given him a set of freedoms and opportunities in the Wizarding World that he had never thought possible for someone like him.

And if something was missing in his more than adequate existence, he would not dwell on it. He would not begrudge the man who gave him a second chance at life. He hadn’t sought out Harry Potter since the war, but he did keep tabs on the man and his family, partially because it was a habit after being charged with keeping him alive for 17 years, partially because he was grateful for what the man had done for him, and partially because the blasted bond would never let him forget the man. But Snape wasn’t going to complain, for complaining would make him seem ungrateful, and that was something that Severus Snape surely was not.

Every morning Snape woke to a fresh cup of coffee and a copy of The Daily Prophet. He’d peruse the paper over breakfast, clipping any important articles or notices and setting them aside. If any pertained to Potter and needed to be archived—such as the name and date of birth of his latest child, or his newest position at the Ministry—Snape would clip them out and place them carefully in a file he had created for just such a purpose.

This morning, as he did every morning, he took a sip of coffee and stretched out the newspaper on his breakfast nook. The headline that danced before his eyes had him spitting his coffee all over the paper. A wave of his wand cleaned away the mess, and he sat, riveted, to the story that lay before him.

_BREAKING NEWS: HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED, IS DYING_

_In a stunning turn of events, Harry Potter, Defeater of You-Know-Who, has just weeks to live. Sources close to the family report that on Monday last, Head Auror Harry Potter was kidnapped by Timothy Nott, son of Death Eater Theodore Nott who recently died in Azkaban prison. Vowing to avenge his father’s death, Mr. Nott attacked Mr. Potter, Apparated him to an undisclosed location where Mr. Nott cast a curse on Mr. Potter, and then left Potter, unconscious, on the steps of the Ministry of Magic where he was later found by Ministry worker Dorothea Hibblekins. “I couldn’t believe mine eyes,” reports Mrs. Hibblekins. “Harry Potter, out cold like a candle on a drafty day, and on the steps of the Ministry of Magic no less.” Although the name of the curse has not been released, The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that this archaic curse, which has its roots in Dark Magic, is a slow-acting forerunner of one of the modern day Unforgivables. Healers at St. Mungo’s state that they have done all they can to keep Mr. Potter comfortable but emphasize that there is no cure. Mr. Potter has since been released to the care of his family as they await the inevitable._

Snape cursed and pushed the paper away. He knew Timothy Nott, had taught him in school. Nott had been unbalanced, a problem of genetics that sometimes arose in Pureblood families due to so much inbreeding. He had tried to become a Death Eater, following in his father’s footsteps, but the Dark Lord himself turned the younger Nott away, seeing him for the unstable genetic mishap that he was. Thereafter, his father had disowned him, driving the lad further into the depths of perversion and insanity. That he had somehow managed to get his hands on Potter was a mystery; that he’d tried to kill him, was not.

Snape stood, debating what to do. There was a chance he could save Potter, but at what cost? Would Potter welcome his assistance, or view it as interference? Was that the reason that Potter hadn’t reached out to him already? Perhaps he wished to put Snape, and all of their untoward history, behind him. After all, Snape had told him to seek him out if they both survived the war, but beyond clearing Snape’s name, Snape hadn’t heard from the man. He had no idea what Potter thought of him now.

Well he wasn’t going to figure it out standing in his kitchen. He went down to the apothecary, gathered any potions he thought might be useful, and Apparated to the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. He wasn’t sure where Harry Potter was being kept, but if anyone knew, the Weasleys would, and Arthur had always been friendly towards him.

He knocked at the door and waited, observing the chickens pecking in the yard with mild disinterest. To his surprise, Arthur answered the door.

“Severus!” he proclaimed. “What a surprise! What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

Snape shook Arthur’s proffered hand. “I was hoping to have a world with Mr. Potter.”

“Harry?” Arthur asked, his face falling. “I’m afraid he isn’t well. You’ve heard, I presume?”

Snape nodded. “Do you know where he’s staying?” Snape asked.

Arthur looked momentarily confused. “He’s here, of course. Isn’t that why you came here?”

“Yes,” Snape replied. “But I didn’t know he was here as well. I merely presumed that you would know where I might find him.”

“I see,” Arthur said. “Well, do come in. I’m not sure that Harry is up to visitors at the moment, but I’ll go and see. He sleeps quite a bit these days, and when he’s awake… well…” Arthur hesitated. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll go and check.”

Snape sat in a rickety chair at the scarred and listing kitchen table, taking in the shabby furnishings. He knew the Weasleys were poor, and it galled him to think that such a family had it so rough when others who were much less deserving wallowed in wealth.

“You’re in luck!” Arthur declared. “Harry’s just woken up and he says he’d be delighted to see you.”

Snape felt a small trickle of hope slip past his defenses and cursed himself for his folly. If Potter had wanted him in his life, he’d have sought him out before now. The fact that Potter hadn’t even reached out to him as he was dying was surely testament to Potter’s feelings toward Snape. Nonetheless, Snape felt it is his duty to at least make the offer. Then, if Potter refused, Snape could go to his grave without regret. Or so he told himself.

Potter lay, bandaged, and surrounded by pillows. His face was so sunken that his eyes seemed to protrude from his face as if he were a different species of hominid altogether. His normally bright green eyes were dull and listless, his lips dry and cracked, and most of his hair had fallen out. Only the odd black tuft jutted upward here and there. His arms were covered in brown spots, his hands heavily veined, and already the tips of his fingers were turning black. Looking closer, Snape saw that the tips of his ears and the tongue that reached out to wet dry lips were also blackened.

“Potter,” he hissed, going to the man’s bedside. “Why didn’t you release the bindings? I would have come for you sooner. I only just found out, and via the Daily Prophet no less,” he added with a sneer.

Potter coughed, a dry hacking sound that seemed to rattle his bones. “Nice to see you too, Snape,” he rasped, then coughed again.

Disturbed by the poor state of Potter’s health, Snape sat in the chair beside the bed and said, “You gave Dumbledore your word.”

Potter let out a sound that Snape guessed was supposed to be a laugh. “No, Snape, that was you. Dumbledore only made me promise that I wouldn’t abuse the link to torment you with my rash stupidity.”

Snape grimaced and picked up Potter’s hand, examining it. Sighing, he placed it back on the bedclothes. “Why didn’t you summon me?” He hadn’t meant to put Potter on the spot so soon, but the advanced state of the curse had Snape feeling quite discomposed.

Potter looked away.

“If you don’t want me here, I understand. I’ll go,” Snape said, getting to his feet.

“No. Wait,” Potter said, turning back to Snape. “Please. Sit. I’m sorry. I’m being rude.”

Snape sat.

Potter swallowed, cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he said quietly.

Of all the things Snape had expected, this was not it. “What?” Snape said, his voice harsh and accusatory.

“Look, I know what you did for me. And I know why. You loved my mother and hated my father and I was a constant reminder of the woman you lost and the man who tormented you.” Potter wheezed and coughed. Snape grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table and fitted the straw to the man’s parched lips. Potter drank and cleared his throat.

“You spent seventeen years looking after me, putting up with me, trying to keep me alive while I did my best to throw your efforts in your face.” Potter paused, trying to catch his breath. “Then you sacrificed even more when Malfoy cursed me.” Potter looked away then, as if remembering.

“I thought there was something there,” Potter murmured softly. “You said it wasn’t real. I thought it was, but…” Potter shrugged his shoulders. “You’d given so much, and lost so much…” Potter started coughing again, and moaned, placing his hands over his stomach. He looked at Snape with pain-filled eyes, and rasped, “I thought you deserved a Potter-free life for once.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“You’d given so much, and lost so much…” Potter started coughing again, and moaned, placing his hands over his stomach. He looked at Snape with pain-filled eyes, and rasped, “I thought you deserved a Potter-free life for once.”_

Snape closed his eyes, breathing through flared nostrils. “Insufferable Gryffindor,” he muttered. “I should have known.” When he raised his lids, Harry was watching him.

“Was I wrong?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Potter,” Snape said, biting back the scathing remarks about Potter’s intelligence—or lack there of—and reaching out to take his hand instead. “You _were_ wrong. But that is not the issue at present.” Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “If we release our joint magic, I can probably heal you. But the cost will be immense.”

“Cost?” Harry inquired.

“You never asked about the silver light,” Snape said.

Harry smiled weakly. “I didn’t want to bother you."

“So you’ve said. Would you like to know what it meant?”

Harry nodded.

“It was a magical bond, a soul bond actually,” Snape said, embarrassed, training his gaze on Potter’s wilted hand to avoid seeing his reaction. “The likes of which hasn’t been seen in over three hundred years,” Snape added. “Once upon a time they were more common, though still rare. Over time, they vanished. But they were, and still are, the strongest bond that can be forged between two people.”

Snape looked up to see Potter’s protruding eyes thrown wide, a look of astonishment on his face. “So it was real,” he said.

“Yes, it was real,” Snape confirmed. “ _Is_ real,” he clarified.

Harry eyelids slid closed, and for a moment Snape thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Go on,” Harry whispered, meeting Snape’s gaze once more.

“I don’t mean to disparage your marriage, and I mean no disrespect, but I am guessing that, try as you might, your relationship with Mrs. Potter has lacked… passion… for want of a better word.”

Harry looked a bit wary, but nodded slightly, his lips pursed, his brows drawn down.

“That’s because we are linked,” Snape explained. “There is no breaking a bond such as the one that formed between us. Not even in death, or so it is said. And while you can select other partners, and even have children as you’ve discovered, the spark will be always be missing.”

 Snape ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t tell you this to upset you, Potter. But you need to understand what is at stake here.”

“What is at stake?” Harry asked in a whisper.

“The nature of the bond, along with the many years we’ve spent apart, means that, if our bond is allowed to be re-established…”

“We’ll jump each other’s bones?” Harry offered.

Snape didn’t smile at Potter’s attempt at lightening the mood. “There will be no going back. We won’t be able to rein back in the magic, to bind it again, to dampen it. The connection, the passion, will be undeniable and irrefutable.” Snape gazed steadily into Potter’s eyes. “You will lose your wife, your family, your status in the community.”

Harry didn’t look away. He raised a weakened hand and scratched at the back of his neck. “I will lose those things shortly anyway,” he said.

“True enough,” Snape said. “But if you choose to live, assuming our joint magic can heal you, you will have to live with the consequences.”

“You,” Harry said. “I will have to live with you.”

Snape gave a curt nod, before looking away. He felt Harry squeeze his hand.

Clearing his throat, Snape said, “I will leave you to rest and think about it. Shall I return in the morning to discover your decision, or will you need more time?”

“Tomorrow morning is fine,” Harry said quietly. “And thank you, for giving me the option.”

Snape nodded once more and took his leave. He met Hermione Granger–Weasley in the hallway.

“Professor,” she said, a tentative smile gracing her face. She held out her hand and he shook it. “Can you help him?” she asked. Snape must have looked stricken because Hermione bit her lip and back-tracked. “That is why you came, isn’t it? To see if you could help Harry?”

“I… Yes, that is why I came,” Snape replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must find Arthur.” Snape left the bewildered witch behind him. He didn’t answer her question, for the answer was not up to him. It was Harry’s choice to make.

Snape found Arthur in the sitting room, speaking with the rest of the Weasley family. Their solemn faces all looked up when he entered.

“Mr. Potter is resting. Mrs. Granger–Weasley is with him now.” Snape pulled several potions vials out of a pocket inside his robe and set them on the mantle of the fireplace. “These potions might help Mr. Potter rest more comfortably. The directions are on the vials.”

“Severus,” Molly implored, “Can you… can you help him?”

Snape felt the weight of all of the gazes in the room hoping that somehow he could come up with a miracle. “I know of no potion that can cure him,” Snape responded. This, at least, was true. He would not break Harry’s confidence. “I will return in the morning to check on Mr. Potter.”

Molly and Arthur both stood. “Thank you for stopping by,” Arthur said sincerely, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yes, thank you,” Molly said. Snape nearly had the wind knocked out of him when Molly threw her arms around him. “You are welcome here anytime,” she said, holding back a sob. She finally let go, and Snape fairly ran from the room. If Harry did decide to take Snape up on his offer, he wondered how the Weasleys would treat him after he stole Harry from their only daughter.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Harry woke again.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Awful,” Harry admitted, groaning as he shifted on the mattress.

“The kids send their love. Bill and Fleur brought them by earlier, but you were asleep.”

Harry nodded.

“And Snape left some potions for you,” Ginny said, helping Harry sit up in bed before handing him a potion.

Obediently, Harry took the vial and downed the glutinous dark liquid. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as it looked. Ginny handed over two more potions, a dark green one that reminded Harry of Brussel sprouts—a nutrient potion he guessed, and a pale yellow one that had no taste at all. Harry shuddered and felt warmth race through his body.

“All right?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, stretching his hands. “I feel warm for the first time in ages, and the pain is better. Lighter,” Harry clarified.

Ginny smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Mom made some broth for you. Do you think you can eat?”

Harry gauged his stomach. Lately, food had made him nauseous. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking at Ginny in surprise. “I think I can.”

This time, Ginny’s smile was genuine. As Harry’s hand were too unsteady, Ginny spoon fed her husband, worry lines creasing her face as some of it spilled down his chin. She wiped it away with a napkin and placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips.

“Sorry, Gin,” Harry said, chagrined.

Ginny turned away, hiding the tears in her eyes from him and clearing her throat.

Making up his mind, Harry spoke. “Gin, I need to talk to you. And Ron and Hermione too. Can you get them?”

Ginny looked back at him with a wary expression on her face, but nodded, set the half-finished bowl of broth aside, and left the room. She returned a moment later with Ron and Hermione by her side, all three standing before him, looking grave.

“Have a seat,” Harry said. “This could take a while.” His three friends exchanged a glance, then seated themselves in chairs near his bed.

Harry smiled faintly and took a deep breath, which caused him to cough. Ginny immediately jumped up and grabbed the water glass, holding the straw to Harry’s lips so he could drink. When Harry could finally breathe again, he said, “There’s something I’ve never told you before. Never told anyone,” Harry mused.

Three sets of eyes gazed intently at him. Harry cleared his throat, wondering how to begin. “This is all going to sound a bit odd, and it’s, er, embarrassing. Mortifying, really,” Harry said with a chuckle. Then coughed. “Which is why I never told anyone.”

He looked up to see their rapt attention. Secrets always brought that out in people. Especially embarrassing secrets, Harry thought wryly.

“Remember in sixth year, when I told you that Malfoy cursed me and I spent the night in the hospital wing?”

Ron and Hermione nodded.

“Well, the first part is true. Malfoy _did_ curse me. But I didn’t spend the night in the hospital wing.” Harry glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, feeling blood rush into his cheeks. “I, er, spent the night with Snape.”

His admission was met with shocked stares.

Hermione was the first to recover. “When you say _spent the night_ …” Hermione inquired.

“Fucked each other silly, really,” Harry said with a laugh, giddy with how absurd and freeing the admission was.

His friends just stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Let me back up a moment,” Harry said. He fought through a coughing spasm to continue. “The curse Malfoy cast on me was a compulsion curse. A _lust_ compulsion curse,” Harry clarified. “And he tied it to Professor Snape.”

Hermione gasped, Ron looked a bit ill, and Ginny just stared wide-eyed.

“You had sex with Professor Snape?” Hermione asked.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Ron asked, his ears reddening.

Harry schooled his face. “No, it isn’t. And it’s far more serious than I ever realized. And there’s a reason I’m telling you this now.”

Hermione still looked like she didn’t quite believe it, but she said, bracingly, “Go on, then, Harry.”

Harry took another deep breath and explained. “When Malfoy hit me with the curse, he said that Snape was the only one who could help me. I didn’t understand immediately because I didn’t know what curse he used on me. I blacked out for a bit and when I came to,” Harry laughed nervously at the memory, “I pretty much, er, threw myself at Snape.”

Ron made a retching sound, Hermione looked ill, and Ginny just looked stunned.

“How did Snape handle that?” Hermione asked.

Harry snorted. “He was surprisingly decent about it. He was angry, of course, but I think he was more shocked to be assaulted by me than anything.” Harry paused to catch his breath and readjust himself on the mattress. “He summoned Dumbledore and…”

“He told Dumbledore?” Ron asked with a gasp.

Harry nodded. “Yes, we, er, discussed the situation. I was underage. Snape knew the curse because the Death Eaters used it. The only way to end the curse was for Snape and I to have sex.”

“And Dumbledore agreed to it?” Hermione asked.

“There wasn’t really a choice,” Harry said. “Unless the curse is broken, the victim goes insane.”

Silence hung in the room. Harry reached for the water, and Ginny jumped to give him a sip.

Harry cleared his throat. “That should have been the end of it,” Harry said. “Curse broken, both of us embarrassed, end of story.” He met his friends gaze with a chagrined one of his own. “Except, as Snape pointed out, nothing ever goes according to plan when I’m involved.”

Ginny gave him another sip of water.

“Thanks, Gin,” he said gratefully. “When we broke the curse, something unexpected happened. Something I didn’t understand at the time, but Snape did. And so did Dumbledore.” Harry paused, debating how to explain. “After we, er, _finished_ ,” Harry said, his cheeks burning, “this silver light filled the room. It was everywhere. It burned our skin and our eyes, and it did weird things to us both.”

Hermione’s squeaked, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes wide.

Harry smiled. “Snape said you’d know the significance of the silver light.”

“What?” Ron said, looking between Harry and Hermione. “What did I miss?”

“Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Harry, are you sure?” Hermione inquired. “One hasn’t been seen, been _formed_ , in over 300 years.”

“That’s what Snape said too,” Harry replied.

“WHAT?” Ginny and Ron demanded at the same time.

“A soul bond,” Hermione whispered in awe.

“A what?” Ron asked.

“A soul bond,” Harry repeated. “It means that our magic bonded, mixed together, formed a link between us.”

“Harry,” Hermione breathed. “How is that even possible? You were only 16, and you were cursed. It shouldn’t have happened,” she said.

“Whenever has that mattered before when it’s come to me, Hermione?” Harry asked with a wry grin.

“What exactly _is_ a soul bond?” Ginny queried.

“It means Harry and Snape are bonded together. Forever. Even beyond death if the stories are to be believed.”

Harry nodded, and Hermione asked. “So how come we didn’t notice? Shouldn’t your magic be a ton stronger? And shouldn’t the two of you not be able to be apart?”

“Dumbledore found, or maybe he created, a binding spell to dampen the connection so that we both could live a normal life. But he gave us a way of releasing it in case we needed to. Like if one of our lives was in danger. Or when I needed the extra magic to defeat Voldemort.” Harry looked at Hermione and Ron more closely, then said, “It was how I saved Snape from dying in the Shrieking Shack.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide in understanding. Ron just stared dumbly at him.

“So that’s why you kissed each other,” Hermione said. “I always wondered…”

“What?” Ginny asked.

“Wait, you kissed Snape in the Shrieking Shack?” Ron said. “I thought I’d imagined that due to lack of sleep. I’m beginning to wish I had,” Ron added with a grimace.

Harry waved a frail hand. “I released the bindings on our link, our bond, so I could heal Snape and fight Voldemort. But once those binds are released, the link demands payment.”

“Payment,” Ron echoed.

“A renewal of the bond,” Hermione whispered.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Sex, Ronald,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Ginny made a low, unhappy noise in her throat.

“But you only kissed,” Hermione observed.

“There wasn’t time to do more,” Harry said. “Not then anyway.”

“So, how have you been able to stay away from Snape all this time? Or… haven’t you?” Hermione asked, a look of shocked realization crossing her face.

Ginny’s face was looking quite stony.

“I did,” Harry reassured, holding a hand up toward Ginny. “After I killed Voldemort and explained everything to you two,” Harry said, gesturing to Ron and Hermione, “we all went back to Gryffindor tower. You two went to sleep. I went to find Snape. Snape and I… worked things out. Then we recast the binding spell so we could each live our own lives. I didn’t know about the soul bond then.” Harry rubbed his nearly bald head, scratching the patches of dying skin.

“I had asked Snape at the time what the silver light meant, but he wouldn’t tell me. He said that if we both lived through the war and I still wanted to know, to come and find him.”

“And you never asked him?” Hermione inquired.

“No,” Harry said with a self-effacing smile. “I rather thought he’d had enough of me after all those years,” Harry said, a tinge of regret in his voice.

“So let me get this straight,” Ron said. “Malfoy cursed you to lust after Snape, and the only way to break the curse without going insane was for you to _shag_ Snape. Snape!” Ron said, throwing us his hands. “Then, because you are you, you somehow triggered an ancient magical bond that linked the two of you together in this life and the hereafter.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Oh,” Ron added, “and this bond also happens to increase you power, enable you to heal each other, and needs lots of sex as payment. And the only reason you’re not jumping Snape’s bones right now is because Dumbledore taught you a spell to restrain the bond.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Harry admitted, feeling another faint blush creep up his cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny, who was much better at separating the wheat from the chaff, said, “Are you saying that Snape can heal you?”

“It’s likely,” Harry said. “But the cost is high, very high.”

“Snape’s going to charge you?” Ron questioned in indignation, jumping to his feet.

“Sit down, Ron,” Hermione said, pulling on his arm. “It’s not Snape, it’s the bond itself that will demand payment. Am I right, Harry?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that.” Harry looked sympathetically at Ginny. Ginny stared back, her eyes hard but cautiously hopeful.

“I will explain it to you all, but then I ask that you two give Ginny and me time to discuss it. Alone.”

“All right, Harry,” Hermione said.

Ron nodded.

Harry looked at Ginny, who gave him another sip of water and then kissed him on the forehead before resuming her seat.

Harry fought against an impending coughing fit and cleared his throat. “The magical bond has been bound since right after the war. I’ve avoided Snape, and he me, in hopes of letting the other lead a normal life. If we release the bond now, there’ll be no going back. We won’t be able to bind it again, and I’ll… I’ll have to live the rest of my life with Snape.”

Ginny’s pressed her lips together looking displeased.

“So, it’s die with us, or live with Snape,” Ron spat out.

“Ronald!” Hermione said.

Harry reached out for Ginny’s hand. “Ginny…”

“What do you want, Harry?” Ginny asked, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Harry pulled back his hand. “Can you give us a minute?” Harry asked, looking at his two best friends.

“Ginny,” Harry said after Hermione and Ron had left the room. “It’s not as simple as what _I_ want. I could die a hero, leaving you a respectable widow, and the kids with my legacy.” Harry coughed, cleared his throat. “Or, I could renew the bond with Snape, let him heal me, and live. But the scandal it would bring to you and the children…” Harry hissed in despair.

Ginny reached out and took Harry’s hand. “The children need you, Harry,” Ginny said. “And I…” Ginny looked away, hiding her tears from Harry.

And although Harry didn’t feel the passion for Ginny that he felt for Snape, he still loved her. She was his best friend, his wife, the mother of his children. They got along well enough, even if their relationship wasn’t all fireworks and sparks. They _managed_. It could have been much worse, he thought.

“What do _you_ need, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“I need you,” she admitted. “But maybe… maybe I don’t need you as a husband. I could…” she cleared her throat. “I know you wouldn’t abandon us, even if you couldn’t live with us.”

“No, never,” Harry said adamantly.

Ginny squared her shoulders. “It would be selfish of me to let you die because I wanted you all to myself.”

“I’d be leaving you in disgrace,” Harry warned.

Ginny waved off Harry’s words. “We’ve dealt with worse. We’ll manage the backlash.” Then she looked at him slyly. “If you could convince the Wizarding World that _Severus Snape_ was a _hero_ , I imagine we’ll be able to spin this appropriately if we try hard enough.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

Ginny nodded, her gaze fierce. “I want you to live, Harry. And if that means you and Snape, well, then that’s what it means.”

“And what about you, Ginny? You know I won’t have a choice. I won’t be able to come back to you. I…”

“I know,” Ginny said, squeezing his hand. “I’ll fine someone else, someday. Though how they’ll even compare to _The Great Harry Potter_ …”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You of all people, Gin, know I’m far from _The Great_ anything.”

Ginny smiled, blinking back tears. “Can he really cure you?”

Harry shrugged, then grimaced at the pain the motion caused. “If anything can, he can. And if it doesn’t work… well, we don’t lose anything by trying.”

“And how do you feel about spending the rest of your life with Snape?” Ginny asked. “I know you don’t hate him anymore, but still.”

Harry coughed and shifted on his pillows. “That’s the thing about the bond, Gin,” Harry said. “It really doesn’t matter what I think or how I feel, the bond sort of _makes_ you love each other. It’s not a choice. Once the magical bindings are released, I will love Snape, and he me, no matter what we might think we want right now.”

Ginny nodded. “I’ll miss you, us, what we built together.”

“I know, Gin,” Harry said, his eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry. You’ll tell the kids?”

Ginny nodded.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Harry said.

“Anything,” Ginny responded, her words choked.

“I’m sorry to ask this, and if you don’t want to, I completely understand, but will you bathe me before… before Snape’s gets here?”

Ginny smiled. “Of course I will, Harry,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead.

Harry pulled her into a gentle hug. “Are you sure? About this? About everything?”

“Yes, Harry. I’m sure. You have the chance to live. How could I ever deny you that?”

* * *

Snape arrived at 9 am the following morning. He wasn’t sure quite what to expect. Would Harry choose him over death? And if Harry chose him, would the Weasleys welcome him with open arms, or despise him for stealing their surrogate son, husband, and friend? Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Molly escorted him in, her eyes red and swollen. The Weasleys were gathered in the family room. They nodded at his appearance, but said nothing, their faces grave. Snape felt his heart start to race. He could not tell from the atmosphere what Harry had decided. Perhaps Harry had not told them anything at all—which made sense if he’d chosen to refuse Snape’s offer.

Molly took his arm and led him to the bottom of the stairs. “He’s in our room, Severus. Up one flight of stairs, second door on the right.”

Snape looked at her curiously. Why was Potter in their room, he wondered. He glanced back at her, noticing her tears overflowing once more.

“Go on,” she said, motioning him upstairs. “He’s waiting for you.”

Snape gave a curt nod and forced himself to walk slowly up the stairs. He wanted to take them two at a time, wanted to burst into the Weasley’s room, see what had happened, why Harry’d been moved, what was wrong.

He knocked on the door, before pushing it gently open, his pulse racing, his heart in his throat.

Potter lay in a large bed, propped up on overstuffed pillows. His skin was still waxy, his eyes overlarge in his sunken face, but his skin was shiny and clean, his face freshly shaven, his nails clipped short.

“Severus…” Potter’s voice was weak and reedy.

The sound of his given name from Potter’s lips jolted him with surprise. He wasn’t sure if Potter taking such a liberty was a good sign or not.

“How do you feel about saving my life one more time?” Harry asked.

Snape inhaled sharply, relief skittering through him. “Are you sure, Potter?” Snape asked, meeting Harry’s pained but steady gaze. “You know what this means. If I release our magic to heal you, then I… you… we…”

“Will be together forever,” Harry finished for Snape.

Snape gave a curt nod.

“Are _you_ are okay with that?” Harry asked.

“If you are,” Snape said, “then yes, I…” Snape swallowed, his mouth dry, “I think I can manage it.”

Potter laughed.

“What about Mrs. Potter?” Snape asked.

“She’s not happy about it, but she understands.”

“And the other Weasleys?”

“Would rather I lived than died. And they are ready to welcome you into the family, Severus. Can I call you that? Severus?”

Snape snorted. “You’ve already taken the liberty, Potter. Is there really a point in asking now?” Snape supposed he’d have to start calling the man Harry and grimaced at the sound of it.

Potter laughed. Then coughed, and wrapped his arms around his stomach in pain.

Snape sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on Harry’s knee. “How come you are in this room now?”

Potter looked pointedly at Snape. “Everyone understands the nature of the bond.”

Snape’s eyebrows shot up.

Potter blushed. “They, er, thought we’d be more comfortable in here. For… you know… after you healed me.”

Snape groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Harry said. “They just want me to live.”

When Snape looked up, Potter reached out his hand to him. Snape took it, noticing Potter’s weak shaking arm and blackened fingertips. He traced Potter’s paper-thin skin lightly, feeling the fragile vessels that lay beneath.

“You might want to ward the door,” Harry suggested.

Snape had almost forgotten. He waved the wand in his free hand over his shoulder, casting locking and silencing charms, his gaze never leaving Potter’s.

“Do you really think this will work?” Harry asked.

“It bloodly well better,” Snape said with steely determination. Snape had never told Potter, likely never would either, but the years after the war had been barren and desolate without him. Not that he begrudged Potter any happiness. Snape’s life had never been easy, and that he’d been alive and free had been enough, or so the told himself as the bleak months stretched into even bleaker years.

“Before we begin, there are a couple of potions I’d like you to take. A nutrient potion and a strengthening solution.”

Potter’s hands were shaking too much to hold the vials so Snape let Potter’s hand go, slid his hand behind the man’s head to raise him up a bit, and tipped the vials to Potter’s lips.

Once Potter had taken the potions and was settled back against the pillows, Snape asked, “Are you ready?”

Potter nodded.

Snape raised his wand and murmured the counter-spell. It had been years since he’d last done it, but the words and wand movements had never been far from his mind.

In an instant, silver light spilled forth from both of them, seeking each other’s essence, joining, re-integrating. To Snape, it felt like a sweet homecoming, like a part of himself that had been missing had returned. Eyes closed, hand gripping Potter’s, he basked in the warm glow of the link, feeling electricity and heat run across his skin.

And then Potter’s screams pierced the air.

* * *

Snape’s eyes jerked open to see Harry writhing and moaning on the bed, keening in pain.

“Potter, what is it?” Snape asked, but the man was in too much agony to reply.

Not sure of what else to do, Snape laid down next to Harry and gathered Harry’s frail body to him. But it wasn’t enough.

Cursing, he grabbed his wand and ridded them both of their clothing. Then Snape flipped onto his back and pulled Harry fully atop himself, wrapping him arms and legs around the younger man, hoping that skin-to-skin contact would help the silver vapor oozing from his own pores seep into the man he’d come to love and heal him.

Potter convulsed in his arms, still crying out in pain, and Snape held him tighter, hoping the added pressure wouldn’t hurt the man further.

“Po… Harry,” Snape whispered. “Just hold on a little longer. It’s almost over.” At least, Snape hoped it was. And what did _over_ mean anyway? Over as in healed? Or over as in dead?

When Harry gave a last shudder and collapsed, boneless, onto Snape’s chest, Snape felt a surge of panic and fear so strong that the taste of metal surged into his mouth and his pulse exploded through his veins.

“Potter!” Snape shouted, pushing the man off of him and rolling him onto the bed. Had it been to much? Had the strength of the renewed bond overwhelmed his system? Precipitated his demise? Of all the things he’d lain awake the previous night envisioning, the man’s death had _not_ been one of them. “Please don’t be dead…please…”

But one look at the man heralded a sharp breath of relief. Potter was unconscious, but his cheeks and lips had developed a rosy tinge, and as Snape watched, the blackened tips of Potter’s fingers and ears slowly receded, healthy nubile skin taking its place. Thick, black hair sprouted from his mostly bald head and grew rapidly into his trademark messy locks. The recesses in Potter’s face began filling in, and the rest of his body filled out too. Silver light danced all around him as Harry’s health and vitality returned to him.

Snape sighed, giddy with relief. “Don’t _ever_ scare me like that again, Potter!” Snape dropped his forehead to the unconscious man’s temple and kissed him there, inhaling Potter’s heady scent. “When you wake up, I’m going to ravage you senseless,” Snape promised. Then he pulled the covers up over the man, pulled the stubborn man even tighter against his body, and settled in to wait. He thought momentarily about alerting the Weasleys, but if Potter woke when they were there, and if Potter was fully healed, Harry and he wouldn’t be able to fight the pull of the bond, and it would be awkward to say the least.

* * *

The Weasleys sat in the family room, trying to pretend that all was normal and that they weren’t waiting on pins and needles for news about Harry. Molly busied herself feeding everyone present. Hermione recited facts she’d learned about the rare and magical ancient bond that had appeared out of nowhere after an absence of three centuries. Arthur puttered with a Muggle radio he’d found in a junk bin. Ron sat, huddled in a chair, looking ill. Percy was trying to engage George in a game of exploding snap, but George couldn’t concentrate. Ginny alternated between pacing the room and sitting on the bottom step of the stairwell, tense and nervous, her lips pressed into a thin line.

When a sliver doe materialized in the room, there was a collective gasp and everyone jumped to their feet.

Snape’s voice boomed into the silence: _The bindings have been released and the healing commenced. Potter is unconscious at present but seems to be recovering. I will let you know if we need assistance. Otherwise, we will join you later in the day for a meal._

A communal sigh of relief echoed through the room as long-lost hope filled the air.

Another patronus arrived about an hour later, and this time it was a stag. Harry’s voice, strong and sure, rang throughout the room. “All is well. See you soon.”

A loud shout of joy erupted through the Weasley’s living room. Molly and Ginny hugged, George gave Ron a high-five, and Hermione burst into tears. Percy just looked stunned, and Arthur clapped him genially on the back.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry awoke to the feel of soft fingers stroking his face. He tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy. Instead, he focused on the feel of the lightly callused fingers, the scent of mint and spice and pine, and the sure knowledge that Severus Snape had healed him. The constant buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes had gone. The grogginess that had plagued him had also vanished. He flexed his fingers, feeling them move with ease, no longer numb and deadened to sensation. He straightened and stretched his arms and legs, happy to realize that they, too, responded easily and painlessly. His lips curved into a smile, and he forced his eyes open to find Snape staring down at him, his gaze filled with welcome and longing.

“Welcome back to the living, Mr. Potter,” Snape said.

Harry smiled. “Kiss me,” he murmured, pulling Snape on top of himself.

Snape wasted no time in responding.

* * *

The first coupling was frantic and rushed; all hard edges and desperation. Harry felt like an over-eager teenager, rubbing against Snape’s thigh as if he was under the influence of Draco’s lust spell again. The only consolation was that Snape had no better control.

They kissed fiercely, rutting against each other and coming all over each other’s stomachs after only a few moments.

Breathing heavily, Harry murmured, “I’d forgotten how demanding the bond is.”

Snape merely hummed in agreement.

Once Harry caught his breath, he shoved Snape off of him and rolled to his side, his head perched on his hand. He stared down at Snape, who now lay on his back gazing back evenly at him, as if they hadn’t just shared mind-blowing orgasms with one another after too many years apart.

“What?” Snape finally asked.

Harry reached out and drew his fingernails along Snape’s breastbone, the pull of the bond strong and vibrant as it coursed through his blood. He smiled wolfishly at Snape’s sudden intake of breath.

“I spent the night fantasizing about the all ways I wanted to ravish you,” Harry said.

Snape’s eyes widened momentarily before a look of calculation entered them. Harry fancied Snape a bit breathless when the man said, “And what, pray tell, did you come up with?”

“Mmm,” Harry purred. “I think I’d rather show you.”

Although Harry hadn’t seen Snape in several years, prior to the last 24 hours, he’d never forgotten the passionate hours they’d spent together. His body had never ignited and burned like it had when he’d been with Severus Snape. Understanding it had been the bond did little to calm the fire building in him once again. And seeing the look of reawakening desire in Snape’s hooded gaze only incited him further.

“I want to shag you senseless,” Harry breathed, trailing a fingernail over a taut nipple and savoring the way Snape’s breath hitched and his eyes dilated, lust fairly shining from their depths.

“I want to have my way with you,” Harry added, as he caught Snape’s reaching hand and held it tight.

Harry slid his hand down to Snape’s wrist. Then he took Snape’s other wrist and held them both together in one hand, raising them up over Snape’s head and pinning them there so that he could gaze at the wizard in all his naked glory.

“You are bloody fucking beautiful, Severus,” Harry said. When Snape’s focus sharpened into something akin to displeasure and he opened his mouth to object, Harry hissed, “Shut it, Snape, and let me enjoy you.”

Snape raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“You look like dessert on a platter, just for me,” Harry breathed. “Spread your legs for me.”

When Snape obeyed without comment, Harry moaned, feeling heat and desire race through his body.

“Will you stay like this? Or shall I tether you to the bed?”

“Potter…” Snape warned, his gaze clashing and burning against Harry’s.

“Oh do be quiet,” Harry said. “I’m enjoying my fantasy.” Lowering himself to lick a nipple, and then looking up at Snape once more, Harry added, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

When Harry set his teeth to Snape’s nipple, the man groaned and bucked, and Harry smiled.

“Pay back is a bitch, Potter,” Snape uttered, his voice hoarse.

“I look forward to it,” Harry said, surreptitiously flicking his wand at Snape’s wrist to bind them together above the man’s head.

“Potter!” Snape shouted, but Harry bent his head, stealing Snape’s breath with a kiss that was as demanding as it was giving.

“Trust me,” Harry whispered, as he broke the kiss, catching Snape’s gaze as Harry ran his tongue along the smooth column of Snape’s neck.

Snape opened his mouth, likely to protest, but as Harry kissed his way down Snape’s chest and lightly bit, then sucked, one of Snape’s nipples, Snape’s words escaped on a moan.

“Trust me,” Harry whispered again, as he laved and teased the other nipple before kissing a path down Snape’s taut stomach, earning more incredible sounds of from the normally reserved wizard.

When Harry finally reached his destination, he engulfed Severus’s cock in his warm, wet mouth, nearly swallowing him whole. The noise that escaped Severus had Harry moaning and writhing with pleasure as well as he licked and sucked and tasted the man beneath him.

Snape bucked his hips, cursing Harry under his breath and making sensual sounds in equal measure.

Harry continued to explore Severus with his lips and tongue. When Snape squirmed and twisted against the intense pleasure, Harry bound Snape’s ankles as well.

“Potter, you’d better hope…”

Snape’s protest was promptly cut off as Harry slid a lubricated digit inside of Snape, swirling his finger slowly in the tight warmth, eliciting a keening sound from Snape that made Harry’s heart swell to the point of bursting. Merlin he had missed this. This feeling of utter rightness. The ability to take this harsh, jaded man and turn him into a mass of wanton desire with just the touch of his fingers or the flick of his tongue. Not that the man didn’t do the exact same thing to him.

Adding another finger had Snape nearly jolting off the bed. And the sound and feel and taste of Snape’s pleasure was the best aphrodisiac in the world, Harry reflected, as his own hard cock hung heavy and aching.

Harry curled his fingers just so, causing Snape to jump and curse and groan, and Harry felt his world sliding effortlessly into place. He watched Snape’s face contort into a rictus of need and pleasure, his mask of control long forgotten. Harry wondered if he himself looked this pained when he was so close to release.

Slowly, Harry withdrew his fingers. Snape’s eyes snapped open. Harry dipped his fingers into the jar for more lubricant, letting Snape watch as Harry drew his hand along the length of his own cock, and then farther back still. Harry threw his head back and groaned as he slid a finger inside of himself, and then another, rocking back and forth atop Severus.

Snape shivered beneath him, his eyes wide, perspiration beading above his upper lip. His mouth worked as if he wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Fingers still inside himself, Harry reached out his other hand, gathered more lubricant, and lathered Snape’s twitching erection. Snape bucked and groaned.

“Release me, dammit,” Snape ground out.

Harry reached down to cup Snape’s bollocks. “Not yet,” Harry breathed, his lids sliding shut, crooning at the feel of his fingers stretching himself.

Snape started cursing again.

Harry smiled, stilled, took back his hands.

And then he watched as Snape’s gaze darkened in surprise as Harry straddled Snape’s hips, took Snape’s cock in his hand, and guided it, effortlessly, into himself.

* * *

“Bloody fucking hell,” Snape breathed as Potter impaled himself, all the bloody fucking way in one steady, relentless movement. Snape felt himself surrounded by tight hot heat. His muscles clenched, released, screamed in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He wanted to come, needed to come, but Potter had grabbed his nuts, yanking them a tad too hard. Holding him back. “Jesus, Mary, and Merlin,” Snape bit out.

“Do you want me?” Potter asked, his eyes alight.

“You fucking twit, asking me a question like that at a time like this. Blooding fucking insufferable…”

“I take that as a yes?” Potter said, sliding slowly, too god-damn slowly, up and then down Snape’s impossibly hard shaft. Potter moved faster, but not fast enough. Teasing, taunting.

“I want,” Potter said, jerking once against Snape, “to hear,” Potter continued, sliding Snape in and out twice more, and then pausing to squeeze Snape’s cock with his inner muscles, “you say it.”

“Yes!” Snape screamed. “Bloody-fucking-hell YES!”

And then Potter was moving, hard and fast, and Snape’s arms and legs were free. Snape’s hands grabbed onto Potter’s hips, pulling and pushing him back and forth as Snape pumped into him, into Potter’s tight sweet channel, and Snape was cursing and swearing and… gods… he was coming, shouting and pulsing and bursting and coming in vivid, hot spurts that went on and on and on… and the look in Potter’s eyes as Snape poured himself into the man was sheer triumph, damn the brat. But the pleasure was beyond anything he could ever remember and he couldn’t find the will to care about much else as he held onto Potter and rode the waves of ecstasy.

Snape’s heart raced and his was breath labored as he lay back, limp and spent. He felt Potter fall forward onto him, Snape still inside the man, although just barely. He felt a tongue dance up the column of his neck.

“I want to be come inside of you,” Harry’s voice murmured, a deep rumble that promised delicious things. “I want to make you come again.”

“Not. Possible.” Snape got out, though it took him a bit.

“Is that a challenge?” Harry whispered, running his tongue along the curve of Severus’ ear.

Snape shivered, it tickled.

“Can I?”

“Make me orgasm again?” Snape asked through broken breaths.

“Come inside of you?”

Snape tossed his head to the side, still drained beyond measure.

“As you please,” Snape replied. “But don’t expect any assistance from me.”

Harry laughed and laid his cheek against Snape’s chest for a long time.

As Snape’s breath finally slowed and his heart approached a more normal rhythm, he felt Potter’s erection butting up against his thigh.

“You are more patient than I remember,” Snape observed.

“I am not as young as I once was.”

“Nor I,” Snape said.

“Some things are better with age and experience,” Harry said, his gaze delving into Snape with meaning.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

“Shall I show you?” Harry offered.

“Be my guest,” Snape said, and laid back, once more, as Harry licked and suckled and worshiped his body. It briefly occurred to Snape that Potter was doing all the work here, but then Potter was sucking him in intimate places and a finger was sliding inside of him once more and Snape really couldn’t be bothered to care too much.

By the time Potter was sliding inside of him, Snape was, beyond all reason, hard again. It had to be the bond; he was much too old to be responding like a sex-crazed teenager.

And yet, when Potter slid a pillow beneath his hips, and shifted him just right so that each glorious thrust stimulated his prostate, Snape forgot about impossibilities and reveled in the feel of that glorious tension building inside of him.

* * *

Harry bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood. His toes were curled, his feet clenched tight, his calf muscles rock hard. He was doing everything in his power to hold back his orgasm, to last a little longer, to take Snape with him. He didn’t have to wait, he knew; but he wanted to. Wanted to see the man’s control shatter again, wanted to be the cause of it.  Wanted to embed himself so deeply in the man’s psyche that Snape would realize they were more than just some bond created by chance; that they were meant for each other.

And so Harry forced himself to hold on, until Snape’s breathing was ragged once more, and the sounds Snape made escaped free and unfettered. Until Snape clamped his hand over Harry’s, tightening Harry’s grasp on Snape’s erection, urging Harry to stroke him more vigorously. Until Snape shuddered and cried out causing Harry to explode uncontrollably, jerking and coming, coming so incredibly hard, babbling and crooning, crying out Severus’s name, blinded by the sheer intensity of not only his mind-blowing orgasm, but of his feelings for Snape, of his connection to this man. Until his mind and body were empty but his heart was full.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry and Snape made their way down the stairs, showered and dressed and holding hands, to the loud cries and cheers of the Weasleys.

Molly got to them first, hugging Harry and kissing his cheek, fussing over how much better he looked. Then she turned on Severus who, much to his discomfort, was hugged and kissed and fussed over as well. Arthur hugged Harry and shook Severus’s hand. George and Percy clapped Harry on the back. Hermione was an overemotional mess as she hugged Harry and tried to hug Snape, but decided at the last minute that a handshake would be more appropriate, but ended up half-hugging him anyway. Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder, then gave him a one arm hug. He merely shrugged a shoulder at Snape, as if to say that he didn’t like it, but there was nothing to be done for it.

Ginny stood back, arms crossed, waiting until everyone else had finished. Then she stepped forward, grabbed Harry by the shoulders, gave him an assessing once-over, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Then she turned to Snape.

“You’d best treat him right,” she demanded.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

“And I expect you to be decent to our children.”

Snape kept his expression impassive, though inside, her words gave him pause. All this time, he’d thought about Harry, and how his life would be with Harry by his side. He hadn’t really considered Harry’s children. Still, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Of course,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t dream of crossing a mother bear.”

“Good,” Ginny said with a nod. She held out her hand and Snape shook it. Then she turned back to Harry.

“Are you up to seeing the children tonight?”

Harry smiled. “Yes. I miss them terribly.” He squeezed Severus’s hand. “Let’s eat first, though. I’m starving!”

* * *

Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and Ginevra Potter settled into a sprawling estate in the country with the Potter’s three children; James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. Harry and Severus had the west wing, while Ginny and the kids had the east wing. A common kitchen and living area joined the two sides of the manor, with a guest wing set off to the north, and a large ballroom and courtyard to the south. The kids, of course, were welcome in any part of the manor, and made the best use of having a mom, a dad, and an honorary uncle.

Severus settled back into his life as a Potioneer. Harry retired from the Ministry of Magic and took over Madam Hooch’s part-time position at Hogwarts, teaching the students how to fly on brooms and refereeing Quidditch matches. He also led the Dueling Club. When he wasn’t busy at Hogwarts, he could be found hanging out with his children or helping Snape brew some of the simpler potions in the apothecary. Ginny began dating—and eventually married—Roger Davies, and life at Potter Manor settled into a comfortable routine with four adults and three children and plenty of visiting friends and family.

James Potter grew up to play professional Quidditch for the Wimbourne Wasps before settling into a more sedate life as a banker after he retired from Quidditch. Albus Severus apprenticed under Potion’s Master Snape himself, and took over the day to day operations of Slug and Jiggers, under Snape’s guidance. Lily Luna married shortly after Hogwarts and was blessed with triplets, who kept her—and everyone else in the family—busy. She opened a Wizarding Preschool while her husband became a Muggle liaison for the Ministry. He got along famously with Lily’s grandfather Arthur.

And Harry and Severus? They found what they were missing. As much to everyone else’s surprise as their own, they found their other half.

~Fin~


End file.
